


Take Me Away, Sunray

by hummingrightalong, itslifethatscaresmetodeath



Category: Queen (Band), Real Person Fiction
Genre: Crossdressing, Kinktober 2019, Lingerie, M/M, Mirror Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-08 14:27:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20836988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hummingrightalong/pseuds/hummingrightalong, https://archiveofourown.org/users/itslifethatscaresmetodeath/pseuds/itslifethatscaresmetodeath
Summary: Roger catches Freddie trying out some lingerie.





	Take Me Away, Sunray

“How many times you been fucked in that thing?” Roger asks, having burst into Freddie’s apartment without bothering to knock. Fuck, what else was he going to say to break the ice? He wasn’t a subtle guy. And these were special circumstances.

Freddie’s back is turned, he’d been about to sit at the dressing table; that horrible make-up remover is open in front of the mirror. The problem (alright, it wasn’t exactly a problem) was what the singer was wearing.

A long robe, made out of fine lace, feathers of a lighter shade at the cuffs and collar. It wraps just around the waist, open from chest to hip, falling off his shoulder. At the slightest movement- and especially when he turns around in shock at the interruption, the robe falls away from his lean legs. How the man had such a masculine frame yet held himself in that coquettish way has always been a mystery.

Freddie blushes, swishing the robe around, and does just what Roger expects, what Freddie always does when caught off guard - fake it til you make it, darling. He twirls the edges of the soft yellow lace and his expression instantly changes to confident, flirtatious, when he replies, “well what do you think?”

“I think I’d like to take a trip back to our old days in Kensington.” Roger is never lost for words, but he’s damn near close now. 

“Do you really mean that darling?” Underneath the robe Freddie is wearing a satin jumper, it's a slightly brighter shade of yellow and obviously not intended for a man to wear - no matter how short he likes to wear his shorts. There’s precious little of it on his tiny frame, but it’s loose on him and leaves just a bit to the imagination. Just a bit. Roger nods. “Won’t Dominique mind?”

“No. We’ve talked, I can pretty much do whatever while we’re on tour. It's the same with her. If we don’t expect the other to be completely faithful, there’s no hurt feelings and neither one of us is going to be celibate that fucking long...besides, I think she’d especially be fine with it being you.”

“Roger…” freddie says, laughing. “We’re not on tour. Call her.”

“Well, we just got off tour, I haven't even been home but fine.”

Roger does exactly what he’s asked, while Freddie poses there, in shades of yellow. His favorite color stupidly compliments him somehow. It shouldn’t. No one fucking looks good in fucking yellow. He slips into a pair of open toed kitten heels. They’re yellow too, and sparkly...why it's even sexier, Roger does not know. But if his girlfriend doesnt let him have this, he has half a mind to dump her ass...

Thankfully, it’s quickly all settled, Roger sitting heavily on the vanity bench in front of the mirror. Freddie gracefully straddles his lap, kissing him and laughing. If anyone else had caught him like this, made a pass at him, he might think they were taking the piss. But he knew Roger, had known him the longest, and there was a time when they used to fool around. When they were too broke to afford a nice flat, when the sex was at least in part about keeping warm. 

“Wouldn’t want to get that pretty thing dirty love.” The blond rubs the hem of the satin jumper between his fingers. “And your back’s to the mirror. If we’re going to fuck I know you’ll be wanting to watch us.” 

“What must you think of me?” The vocalist giggles, covering his blush and open mouth with a paper fan he’d had in an open drawer. Of course, he’d gotten that from his obsession with all things Japan; covering his face like a schoolgirl when he laughed. This wasn’t about hiding his teeth. He never did that at home anymore, not with his loved ones, especially with Roger...He was flirting. And it was working. 

“C’mon, get to it.” The drummer swallows hard, already regretting his attempt at taking control of the situation when Freddie smirks, raises an eyebrow...yeah, big mistake Taylor.

The singer lays his robe to the side, letting one of the loose straps slip off his shoulder as he puts on a Jimi Hendrix record - it's a favorite of both of theirs...Then he closes his eyes and moves his hips just slightly to the music as he strips out of the jumper. He may like playing the coquette, but he was damn well in charge and he knew it. He snaps his fingers. 

“You’re turn.” Roger instantly feels like he’s on fire and somehow like a fucking schoolboy again as he fumbles out of his clothes. And there Freddie is, standing there naked as the day he was born and fucking giggling at his ineptitude. 

It's all better, though, as only a few seconds seem to pass and then Freddie is kneeling on the bench, straddling the drummer’s thighs, his back to roger’s chest because yeah, he does like to look at himself. He hands roger the lube and those lovely hands make quick work of preparing him before there’s a hand on his hip, an arm wrapping around his chest to steady him and pull him that much closer.

This had definitely gone past messing around, which they weren’t above, even in these days, even when either had girlfriends or boyfriends.

Roger brushes Fred’s hair aside, taking in a delicate scent. Freddie turns to leave his throat more exposed, circular red marks already trickling down his neck. 

“Are you wearing perfume?” Stupid question, as Freddie reminds him that that’s hardly a priority right now. 

“Darling, it’s been a while but you still know what you’re doing.” 

“I’ll take that compliment, even if I’m not doing shit.” Roger remarks between gasp as Freddie rides him, the drummer’s arms around him, admiring the shape of him from head to toe. He’d kept the heels on. Somehow, that made it ten times sexier. 

“Exactly.” The singer kisses him, gorgeous brown eyes fluttering shut when Roger reaches around to help him along with slow steady strokes. He tells him he’s fucking gorgeous, and Freddie nips Roger’s collar bone when he comes. He lifts himself up, drops to his knees, wrapping his mouth around Roger’s cock. The frontman looks up, the sight of his long eyelashes and innocent brown eyes when Roger looks down conflicting with the image in the mirror of his friend’s head bobbing up and down. Roger doesn’t even have time to verbalize his curiosity concerning what he’d done to deserve that before he finishes too. 

Freddie stands and sways a bit to the bed. “Come for a cuddle, I’m exhausted,” he punctuates the statement with an exaggerated yawn.

**Author's Note:**

> Couldn't have done this without itslifethatscaresmetodeath <3


End file.
